


When the Levee Breaks

by lizwontcry



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Jesse and Walt get high together, and change the entire nature of their partnership in the process.He doesn’t know when the switch flipped or why, but he wants to help Jesse instead of blowing off his very real experiences and emotions. Jesse took care of his aunt when she got sick; Jesse has shitty parents, Jesse has a drug problem, Jesse killed a man for Walt. These are all things Walt knows about Jesse.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is? I watched Argo recently and my brain responded to a pissed off seventies Bryan Cranston, and then this just happened. This is kind of an AU for Open House and the infamous Go-Karting inquiry.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I love feedback and kudos, rock on.
> 
> I also think listening to the song will only enhance the reading experience:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwiTs60VoTM

_If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break  
If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break  
When the levee breaks I'll have no place to stay  
Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan  
Lord mean old levee taught me to weep and moan  
It's got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home  
Oh well, oh well, oh well_

*****

Mr. White has been in a mood all day, and it’s not the usual stick-up-his ass prick meth kingpin bullshit. He’s, like, actually kind of nice and the two of them are working together more seamlessly than usual. If Jesse didn’t know any better, he’d think Mr. White is his actual fifty-fifty partner like he’d agreed upon and not his fuckin’ boss.

It is a productive day; somehow they’d managed to cook a bigger batch than usual with this vibe they’d been able to keep through the whole cook. When they’re done, they strip off their gear and change back into their clothes before climbing up the endless stairs of the superlab. Mr. White’s a little grumpy about the new security camera Gus installed but mostly he’s still in the same mellow mood he’s been in all day. 

Although Jesse has been able to keep his shit together so far--this cooking stuff gets pretty mechanical after a while and he’s sure he can almost do it blindfolded by now--he’s not feeling like himself, either. Yeah, it’s the whole “shot a guy in the face” thing. He was doing so well before that and now he’s back on the glass, back to fucking up his personal life, back to being ol’ Junkie Jesse that everyone knows and loves. He’s not sure what to do about it, or if he even wants to care. 

All he knows is that he’s not exactly looking forward to going home to a house full of strangers partying it up in his living room. He thinks about asking Mr. White to go do something with him just to take his mind off of all that, like go-karting or whatever, but he knows that’s not exactly Mr. White’s idea of a good time. And he’s not really in the mood for rejection. Ah, well. Back to the crack den, he supposes.

“Well… see you on Monday,” Jesse says, and turns to leave.

“Hey, Jesse, wait,” Walt says, grabbing Jesse’s wrist. _Here it comes,_ Jesse thinks. He’s going to ask him to come to the lab on the weekend and clean everything, or he’s going to accuse him of stealing again, or whatever. Jesse knew his chill vibe was too good to be true.

“What’s up, yo?”

Walt clears his throat and actually looks… kind of nervous? It’s unnerving, really. 

“Jesse, I was wondering if you may be able to provide me with some… well, some marijuana. I’ve had a bit of nausea lately--nothing serious, I’m still in remission--and I’ve heard that marijauna helps ease the symptoms.”

“Yeah? Maybe you’re pregnant, is it morning sickness?” Jesse realizes this is a dumb thing to say, but he’s so shocked that Mr. White has just asked him for some pot that he doesn’t know how to reply. 

Not surprisingly, Mr. White just gives him a disdainful look. Ah, there it is, it’s merely been hidden all day.

“I can get you some pot, Mr. White. Just give me a few hours. I’ll bring it by your place later tonight, is that cool?”

Mr. White actually looks relieved. It feels kind of nice that Jesse can do something helpful for Mr. White every now and then. Jesse turns to walk away but Mr. White still has his hand on Jesse’s wrist.

“Yes, Jesse, that is _cool_. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later?” Jesse asks, just because Mr. White isn’t letting go and he doesn’t imagine it’ll be easy to drive his car with a 50 year old chemist attached to him.

“Oh, yes. See you this evening.” Walt releases Jesse and gives him a lingering look before going back to his own Aztec. 

Jesse shakes his head as he drives home. Between Skinny Pete, Badger, and all the other low-lifes currently inhabiting his house, someone has to have a stash on them. 

He wonders what’s really going on with Mr. White, though. Dude’s acting weird. Ah, well, anything is better than what he has to go back home to, he thinks. Anything.

*****

Walt has no idea what’s gotten into him. He signed the divorce papers months ago and he and Skyler are barely speaking, and yet… he feels weirdly free. And maybe even _happy._ He can do anything tonight! He can go to a bar and pick up an attractive woman and bring her back to his condo. And yet, despite how much he’s been craving a warm touch from a caring soul, he has absolutely no urge to do that.

The only person he’s looking forward to seeing tonight is Jesse.

Walt has been feeling peculiar for the past week or so. He seems to be daydreaming a lot, something he’s never done much of before. Scientists are too practical for such nonsense. But he keeps harkening back to his college days. With his long, strawberry blond hair, laughing in the courtyard with Gretchen and Elliot, listening to music and smoking joints all over campus. His future was so bright back then; he never would have imagined he’d need to resort to manufacturing meth in his fifties so he could pay for his cancer treatments.

Walt is sitting on his new black leather futon, listening to a Led Zeppelin album on his old record player, when Jesse knocks on his door. Walt hurriedly gets up and answers the door, weirdly excited to get his hands on the marijuana. Jesse has a paper grocery bag in his hand and Walt has to keep himself from grabbing it from the boy.

Instead, Walt says, “Thanks for coming, Jesse.” And he _hugs_ him. He’s anticipating Jesse making another “homo” comment of some kind, but he surprises Walt. Perhaps Jesse has been a little desperate for a warm touch lately, too, because for a second, Jesse wraps his arms around Walt and gives him a real hug back. Jesse’s hands on Walt’s back feel... good. Comforting, even.

They finally part, avoiding each other’s eyes, probably out of slight embarrassment. They aren’t huggers. Most of the time they barely even tolerate each other--or so they liked to tell themselves.

Jesse throws the paper bag down on Walt’s coffee table, which actually would have been annoying were it not for the fact that Walt really _wants_ that marijuana.

On Walt’s record player, “Stairway to Heaven” starts to play. This was one of his favorites in college. He and Gretchen used to have some wild times while the album played in the background in the bedroom of their quaint off-campus apartment. 

“Sweet record player,” Jesse says he sits down on the new futon. “My parents had one when I was growing up but they never listened to Zeppelin. It was all, like, Neil Diamond and shit. Sometimes they’d put on a Willie Nelson album, which I actually kind of dug.”

“Willie Nelson--someone who notably enjoys marijuana,” Walt remarks.

Jesse chuckles. Walt feels like he’s achieved something by making Jesse laugh. 

“So you know Led Zeppelin? I wouldn’t think that was your preference of music…”

“Sure, man. Aunt Ginny loved classic rock. My first concert was Guns N’ Roses when I was barely old enough to walk.”

Walt nods, thinking there’s still so much he doesn’t know about his partner.

Jesse gets the ziplock bag out and takes some rolling papers from his pocket. He starts methodically rolling a joint. Walt knows how to roll a joint, but he's fascinated by watching Jesse do it. His fingers are so adept; he’s so focused on the task at hand. Walt has seen him this way at the lab occasionally and he’s honestly impressed. Most of the time Jesse seems so distracted. Walt takes note of this for the future--Jesse just needs something to concentrate on in order to thrive. 

Walt sits down next to Jesse on the futon. Maybe he’s too close to him--their legs are touching. Jesse doesn’t seem to notice or care. Why would he? Walt’s the only one apparently losing his mind here tonight.

When Jesse is finished rolling the joint, he retrieves a lighter from his pocket and lights the joint.

“Do you mind... ?”

“No, go ahead, you rolled it.”

Walt watches as Jesse deeply inhales, and then exhales the smoke and coughs. “Ahh. Good stuff.”

Jesse passes the joint to Walt, who does the same. He hasn’t smoked pot in decades, but it all comes back to him once he inhales. Suddenly he’s 20 years old again and he’s back in that shabby apartment. He coughs a lot, so much so that Jesse claps his back like that will actually help. 

“Are you okay, Mr. White?” Jesse asks, looking worried, which just makes Walt laugh for some reason, which makes him cough again, and the cycle repeats itself.

When the coughing subsides, Walt lays back into the futon. Jesse takes another hit and then joins him. They’re still so close together. Jesse could put his head on Walt’s shoulder. If he wanted to.

Walt closes his eyes and lets himself feel everything. And then he laughs.

“What’s so funny, yo?”

“I just forgot, is all. I forgot how it makes me feel.”

“Yeah? And how _does it_ make you feel?”

“Horny,” Walt says. “I forgot that smoking pot always makes me horny.”

“Whoa… too much information, Mr. White. Holy shit, I don’t want to know that about you.”

Walt takes another hit and closes his eyes again. The music stops playing on the record player. 

“Jesse… can you… flip the record over? Please.”

Jesse groans but gets up and does as Walt asks. “Misty Mountain Hop” starts to play. Jesse returns to the futon.

“Ahhh. This was one of Elliot’s favorite songs,” Walt says, remembering how whenever the song would come on at a bar, Elliot would get a big, goofy smile on his face and want to dance. Nobody ever wanted to dance with him but he never stopped trying.

“Who the hell is Elliot?” Jesse asked. “Ha… Helliot.” He laughs at his own wonderful joke. Walt laughs, too. The two of them laugh like idiots for like a full minute.

“He was who I started Grey Matter with,” Walt says. “That was my old company. My biggest regret.” 

"Yeah... I know regrets, man."

Walt sighs. Jesse puts his hand on Walt’s, which is resting on his knee. The sudden contact surprises Walt, but he doesn’t react. Jesse’s hand is warm and comforting. Walt takes a risk and grips Jesse’s hand. Jesse doesn’t protest.

Walt is feeling _very_ relaxed now. Probably too relaxed. 

“Hey…” Jesse says, looking at Walt’s face. “What happened to your eye, anyway? It looks gnarly.”

“Mike happened to it,” Walt says. Jesse laughs and nods, not even asking how or why. Walt appreciates that.

“Ah, yeah. I got it. Hey, for what it’s worth… getting the shit kicked out of you… not that you get used to it. But… you get used to it.”

Walt nods and murmurs his agreement. “Jesse… is there anything we should talk about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… look, I’m not judging you, I’m not mad at you, I’ve just noticed you’re a little jittery lately. I mean… can I help? I want to help.”

Walt looks over at Jesse and expects to see him rolling his eyes or something. Instead Jesse looks kind of touched that Walt seems to care about his well-being.

“It’s been hard, man. The thing with Gale… I don’t know how to deal with that sometimes. It ain’t like I can go to a fuckin’ shrink, you know? I just have to deal with it on my own, and I’ve never had very good… coping mechanisms?”

Walt feels terrible. Of course Jesse’s not handling this well. How could he ever have thought Jesse was over the trauma of it all? 

He pulls Jesse closer to him and wraps his arms around the boy. He feels how bony he is, how fragile. Jesse lets Walt hug him, and even puts his head on his shoulder. Walt picks up the joint and takes a hit and then passes it to Jesse, who does the same. They are warm, they are comfortable, they are high. It’s nice.

“Hey, Mr. White?”

“Yes, Jesse?”

“Were you and that Helliot guy, like, gay together or somethin’?”

Walt laughs. He feels hazy and light; this question might have bothered him in the past for whatever reason, but now he just finds it funny. And interesting that Jesse is curious.

“I wouldn’t say that, no. We perhaps made out a few times after some drunken late nights, but it never went further than that. Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just wonderin’.” 

“Have you ever kissed a man, Jesse?” Walt is feeling a little bold. And a little something else he can’t quite define yet.

Jesse chuckles. “No way, dude. I’m not a homo.” Ah, there’s the Jesse Walt knows and loves.

Walt doesn’t comment; he doesn’t correct him. Jesse is who he is and Walt’s not going to change any of Jesse’s long-held beliefs and insecurities tonight. Instead, he just grips Jesse’s hand tighter. 

“When the Levee Breaks” starts playing on the record player and suddenly Walt is stuck in a whirlwind of memories and nostalgia. 

“Ahh… I love this song so much,” he says, closing his eyes and nodding along to the music. “I once wrote a paper for my History of Pop Culture class about this song. It’s just… so good.”

“Yeah, man, I dig it, too,” Jesse says. 

“You don’t understand… any party you’d go to in the seventies, this song was playing, and everyone was drunk and high and going off to a corner to make love… it was a better time.”

Jesse laughs again. “What has _gotten into you_ , Mr. White? You’re supposed to be this chemistry teacher with a stick up his ass. When did you become cool or whatever?”

“I used to be cool, Jesse. I was so cool.”

“I believe it,” Jesse says. “I can see it.”

*****

Jesse has no idea what’s come over him, but suddenly he’s desperate for a new distraction. Something to take his mind away from the whirlwind of doubts and fears he has going on in his head at all times. And Mr. White cares about him, wants him to feel better, and…

He shocks the hell out of both of them by just fucking straddling Mr. White right then and there. Mr. White looks at him, confusion in his dark eyes, but doesn’t protest. Instead he takes Jesse’s denim jacket off and throws it on the floor. Jesse leans down and kisses him, hard, relentless, unforgiving. He bites Mr. White’s lip and sticks his tongue in his mouth, licking Mr. White’s own tongue. Mr. White responds by kissing him back, moving his hands under Jesse’s thin t-shirt, touching his back. Jesse can’t help it--he moans into Mr. White’s mouth. 

It's not like he's gay or whatever. He just... needs this. He needs it.

“Jesse…” Mr. White says, but doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead they continue kissing. Jesse doesn’t care that Mr. White is probably thinking about that dude back in college or whatever; all he cares about is feeling something other than what he can’t stop feeling.

Speaking of feeling things... Jesse can feel how hard Mr. White is against his own growing heat. Part of him thinks that it’s gross and he should sober the hell up and go home, but the rest of him _loves_ this. Mr. White is so focused on kissing him, on running his hands up and down his back, his torso, his nipples, his throat. 

Jesse takes Mr. White’s shirt off, wanting to feel his body heat, and Mr. White does the same.

“Come to bed…” Mr. White says in his ear, and Jesse nods. He follows Mr. White into the bedroom, where they collapse together. Jesse is on top of him, and they never stop kissing. 

“You taste so good, Jesse… you feel so good in my arms…” 

Jesse doesn’t respond, but his heart skips a beat or two. He can’t help but react to Mr. White's praise. Always the dutiful student.

Jesse ruts into Mr. White's thigh, feeling some relief against his constricting pants. He wants to take them off, but there's no time, and he doesn't want to stop kissing Mr. White. So instead he dry humps the guy into oblivion, enjoying his moans, loving the way he clings to Jesse, whispering his name in his ear, telling him he's doing so good. 

Jesse doesn't know what feels better--the intensity of the satisfaction he feels after coming in his pants, or how Mr. White carefully takes his pants off and cleans him with a wet washcloth afterwards.

Maybe it's how well he fits into Mr. White's arms as they fall asleep together, his head on Mr. White's chest, his arms wrapped around his body.

As the record stops playing and the music ends, Jesse doesn't think about what will happen tomorrow. Right now, there's only tonight.

*****

_Cryin' won't help you prayin' won't do you no good  
Now cryin' won't help you prayin' won't do you no good  
When the levee breaks, mama you got to move  
All last night sat on the levee and moaned  
Thinkin' 'bout me baby and my happy home  
Going to Chicago  
Going to Chicago  
Sorry but I can't take you  
Going down, going down now, going down_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant as a one-shot but didn't feel complete to me. So please enjoy another chapter. I think there's possibly another one in me somewhere, we will see. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for panic attacks, PTSD, and real co-dependent messes.
> 
> Thanks for reading and rock on.

Walt wakes up in the morning (bordering on the afternoon) to a feeling of heaviness on his chest. At first he thinks he’s possibly having a heart attack--why not? That would be the least shocking thing to happen lately.

And then he realizes he’s wrong on both counts, because it’s just that Jesse is attached to him, his head on his sternum, his legs intertwined with Walt’s own. 

Walt closes his eyes and tries to picture what the hell happened last night. Jesse came over and brought him pot, they smoked it together, Walt had some intense nostalgia, they hugged a little, and then… Jesse climbed him like a tree, and they ended up in bed together. Walt can’t help but remember peeling Jesse’s pants off and cleaning him up with a warm washcloth, how Jesse sighed a little when Walt touched him carefully. 

Walt is an intelligent man; he realizes this is not exactly a healthy situation. If they both had their wits about them, their relationship would most likely continue in the direction it had been going in for the past almost year--a partnership based on insults, blackmail and threats but slowly building to respect and common ground. 

He doesn’t know when the switch flipped or why, but he wants to help Jesse instead of blowing off his very real experiences and emotions. Jesse took care of his aunt when she got sick; Jesse has shitty parents, Jesse has a drug problem, Jesse killed a man for Walt. These are all things Walt knows about Jesse. And now he also knows what it feels like to kiss Jesse; he now knows the sound Jesse makes when he’s on the precipice of an orgasm--it’s kind of like a mix between a moan and a scream. Just thinking about it gets him at least a little aroused. The boy’s warm body on top of Walt’s isn’t helping to that end, either.

Jesse stirs and Walt braces himself for a scene as he wakes up and takes in what’s going on. 

But there isn’t one.

Instead, Jesse opens his eyes and looks up at Walt. He… actually grins at him. 

“Whoa,” Jesse says, his voice low and deep. 

“Yeah.” Walt takes a chance and kisses Jesse’s forehead. “How… do you feel?”

“Weird, yo… but like… I slept so good. You felt like… a warm blanket or some shit. I haven’t slept well since everything happened and it feels nice to actually wake up rested and stuff.”

“Good,” Walt says. He wants… something. Maybe Jesse senses this because he moves closer to him and tilts his chin up a little. Walt takes the hint and kisses him softly. Why… _why_ does this feel so good? Why does Jesse feel so perfect in his arms? It’s disconcerting. It’s not right. But… it isn’t wrong, either.

It feels nice to be in the bubble. The world of holding Jesse, kissing him, ignoring all the mounting issues that aren’t going away on their own--none of it matters because… Jesse. Once they get out of this bed, everything will start up again. And it seems as though neither of them want that any time soon.

“You know what I just realized…” Jesse says as he kisses Walt's neck. “I’m the only one who got off last night. That’s just… so rude, you know?”

“I suppose it isn’t very good manners,” Walt says, intrigued by where this is going. 

Jesse continues kissing down Walt’s chest, including kissing his nipple very softly, then licking at it, then sucking it. Walt moans. How does Jesse know how to do this to him? He doesn’t ask--doesn’t want to know.

When Jesse takes Walt’s now hard cock in his mouth, Walt gasps. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s gotten a good blowjob. While Jesse isn’t exactly adept at the practice, he’s giving it his best damn shot. 

“God, Jesse… that’s so good. That feels so good…”

Jesse looks into Walt’s eyes as he takes him deep in his mouth, smiling just a little, proud of himself. His lips, his tongue, his hands all work together in a symphony of making Walt groan and writhe in the soft cotton sheets of the bed. 

“Jesse… I’m going to…”

Jesse nods and gives him one last long lick, and then jerks him off until he comes in one long, powerful spurt. Jesse returns the favor of going to the bathroom and getting a washcloth. He cleans Walt up and then lays next to him again.

“Thanks for warning me, yo. I know I was like, doing that, but I wasn’t ready… to do _that._ ”

Walt gets it. He nods, since he’s not currently able to speak.

They lay together for a while, not talking. Jesse takes his hand, kind of playing with his fingers, pulling his own hand in and out of Walt’s. It’s nice and sort of flirty.

“Mr. White?”

“Yes?”

“What… happens now?”

“I’m not sure. In a few days we go back to work. Hank will continue to sniff around. Gus will get more and more involved in our operation. Who even knows what Mike is up to?”

“It kinda feels like the walls are closing in on us and shit, huh?”

“Yeah. It kinda does.” 

They don’t have to say anything else. What is there left to say?

*****

It’s been a few weeks. A few weeks of working hard in the lab during the day, and doing what they do at night.

Jesse’s found a new coping mechanism. An effective way of dealing with the sting of waking up every morning to the emptiness. It’s almost better than the drug itself. Almost--he and Mr. White still smoke pot while they watch the sun set on Walt's makeshift patio at his condo. No one seems to notice or care. 

Jesse still smokes a little crystal during the brief times he isn't with Walt. Walt knows it, and Jesse knows that he knows. 

But in the darkness of night, Mr. White rubs Jesse’s back, his warm hands under Jesse’s shirt, holding him close, whispering that it’s going to be okay. His breath on Jesse’s neck. He tips Jesse’s chin to kiss him softly, slipping his tongue in his mouth when Jesse opens his lips just enough to let him in. Then there's the rest of it--the moaning, the sighing, the experimentation and the game of what turns each other on the most. 

And they talk. They talk about Jesse killing Gale; they don’t avoid the subject anymore, they speak almost like equals. About how it felt when Mr. White ran over those guys for Jesse; how Jesse shot Gale in the face for Mr. White. They have literally killed for each other. 

For Walt, all the bullshit he had once cared about condensed itself into one bullet point: Jesse.

Skyler won’t stop nagging him about buying the car wash--which he finally agrees to just so she’ll shut up about it. And now Hank is starting an investigation into Gale’s murder, which needless to say is a Big Fucking Problem. But all of that goes away when he’s with Jesse. 

Walt obviously never saw this coming. He just wanted some pot, damn it. He wanted to relive his college years, not fall into a desperate cycle of needing Jesse Pinkman as close to him as possible during every waking and apparently even sleeping moment.

When they’re in mid-cook at the lab, Walt watches Jesse break up the crystals in the expert way he’s become accustomed to. He wonders about the boy. Why doesn’t he ever want to go home? How is he really feeling about everything? They talk, of course they talk. But there are some things they don’t discuss. 

There’s a storm brewing in Albuquerque and they can hear the thunder booming outside, even underground with the noisy laundry on top of them. Walt notices that Jesse cringes a little every time he hears the thunder. Walt wants to suggest putting his headphones on or something, but… Jesse’s a big boy, he knows how to make himself--

The loudest boom of thunder Walt’s ever heard pulses through the lab, reverberating through all the equipment. Jesse drops the hammer and sinks to the floor. Walt rushes over to him, taking him in his arms.

Jesse resists this offer of comfort; he pushes Walt back sort of forcefully. Walt notices he’s almost gasping. He must be having a panic attack.

“Come on, Jesse. It’s okay, son. Let me hold you.”

“No, man! I’m not your goddamn son! And I’m not a kid you can just wrap your arms around and it’ll be okay. I’m not okay!”

“I know. I know you aren’t. Please… just come with me into the break room. We’ll sit down. Please?” Walt doesn't want Gus to see too much from his ever-present watchful eye.

“Jesus! Fine, whatever, man.”

Jesse lets Walt gently pick him up by the shoulders and lead him into the break room. They sit down together. Jesse is hunched over, his hands on his face, and he’s rocking back and forth. He still won’t let Walt touch him.

“Jesse… you know you have PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder. With the stress of Gale, and the drugs, and everything else, the thunder is just… bringing it all to the forefront right now.”

Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t know… I don’t know why…”

Walt puts his hand on Jesse’s arm. This time Jesse doesn’t push him away.

“I know you can’t exactly go to therapy for this, but… maybe you can at least go to rehab? It seemed to help you for a while last time…”

“I don’t want to do that! I don’t want… I don’t want to leave. I don't want to leave _you._ ”

“I know, but… you need help, Jesse.”

“You’re helping me,” Jesse says through his tears. “When you rub my back and whisper in my ear and all that gay shit… it helps me more than rehab ever did.”

Walt hurriedly pulls Jesse’s Hazmat suit down so he can rub his back under his shirt. Jesse sighs and puts his head on Walt’s shoulder. Walt strokes Jesse’s newly buzzed head--for some reason Jesse decided to cut all his hair off a few weeks ago.

“Jesse… I can’t help but notice that you never want to go home anymore. Why is that?”

Jesse pulls away, looking confused and kind of angry. Walt knows he said the wrong thing.

“What? You don’t want me at your house? You hate all the blowjobs and shit? I’ll go home tonight, okay? Jesus, you should have told me what a burden I am sooner.”

Walt sighs. “Jesse… I love having you all to myself. I don’t mind if you never leave. I’m just wondering why you never want to.”

Jesse exhales. “I have… a problem at my house.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I let a few people come over, and then a few more came by, and now there’s like a hundred people and they won’t leave and I can’t get them to leave. They’ve fucking wrecked my house, yo. I don’t know what to do.”

Walt clears his throat. He can feel the anger bubbling up in it. For anyone to take advantage of Jesse… he just won’t have it.

“Well. We’ll just go by your house tonight, then.”

“Mr. White…”

“Jesse. I’ll take care of it.”

Jesse nods, still avoiding Walt’s eyes. Walt continues to rub Jesse’s back, while thinking of all the ways he can take care of this problem.

*****

Jesse watches from the kitchen as Mr. White goes all Heisenberg on the losers who have inhabited his house. Mr. White is grabbing dudes by their collars and literally throwing them out the door, dragging sleeping chicks and escorting them outside, yelling profanities at the layabouts who aren’t inclined to move. Within 20 minutes, he’s gotten every single asshole outside, and now he’s making sure they’re all leaving to their respective holes in the wall.

It’s basically the hottest shit Jesse’s ever seen. 

Jesse waits until Mr. White comes back inside and then shoves him against the front door, kissing him desperately, nearly tearing his clothes off. Mr. White, perhaps because he’s fresh off of a healthy dose of violence, responds with similar aggression. While most of the time he tries to be gentle with Jesse, now he pushes him into the futon and kisses him fiercely. 

“Here,” Jesse says, picking up his jeans from the floor and pulling something from the pocket. It’s a sample packet of lube he must have gotten from a magazine or whatever. Mr. White doesn’t ask questions; he takes it from Jesse and covers his dick with it. Jesse closes his eyes as Mr. White turns him over, fingers him for a few seconds, and then enters him with a roughness that Jesse is shocked he actually wants, and more than that, he _needs._

“Is this okay?” Walt says as he pounds into Jesse.

“Fuck,” is all Jesse can moan. 

They both are silent now as Mr. White fucks him senseless, quickly finding his prostate and railing into him again and again. Jesse is moaning; he’s grunting, he’s _yelling._

They both come within minutes; it’s just too much. 

After they catch their breath, Jesse looks around his house and says, “Shit. This place is going to be a bitch to clean up.” He has a lot more to say than this, but it’s all he can think of that doesn’t end in “I fucking love you, Mr. White.” He’s not even really sure if he does. Like what the fuck does that even mean?

“Jesse. You go to rehab. I’ll handle cleaning this mess up. Please? Do it… for me. I just want you to feel better.”

“I’m never going to feel _that_ much better,” Jesse says, finally admitting that to himself as well. “I killed someone, Mr. White. I wasn’t lying before… I’m the bad guy.”

Mr. White holds Jesse, kissing his forehead--a stark contrast to what they were doing just minutes before.

“I know that you feel that way, and I understand. But at least rehab will give you some perspective and help you come down from the drugs.”

“You know I’m going to do it… you know I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Jesse doesn’t like it, but that’s the way things are now. He’s a co-dependent mess, he supposes. But so is Mr. White.

“Thank you.” Mr. White kisses Jesse, palming his face, rubbing his thumb on his cheek. “Thank you.”

*****

Jesse goes to rehab and Walt deals with cleaning up the house and maintaining the lab. When Jesse comes back three weeks later, he unofficially moves in with Walt. He’s off drugs, and he has a new lease on life. Sort of.

He still killed a dude.

But he’ll deal with that later.

*****

It’s not that late when Jesse makes it back to Mr. White’s place after his NA meeting; it’s only 9:30. But Mr. White must have smoked that pot Jesse brought him the other day. Apparently it’s the kind of strain that puts you right to sleep. Jesse doesn’t do crystal anymore but he still digs the weed. It’s totally not the same thing.

Jesse tries to be quiet when he walks into the dark bedroom. Mr. White is snoring a little. It’s kinda funny. Kinda cute. Whatever.

He takes off his pants and hoodie when his phone rings. Jesse says a silent “shit” to himself and hopes the loud ringtone doesn’t wake up Mr. White. He quietly pads into the kitchen to take the call.

“Yo, Badger, what’s up?” He whispers. “No, man, I don’t need any more yet. I’m good. I don’t know, I just don’t want to wake up--I don’t know why I’m whispering. No, I’m not with some chick! I’m alone. Are you fucking kidding? No, I’m not with Heisenberg, you idiot--he’s at home with his family, where do you think? Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. Okay. Bye, man! I’m hanging up now.”

Jesse quietly walks back into the bedroom. Mr. White’s awake when Jesse takes his shirt off and slips into bed.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for waking you up.” But from the way Mr. White is looking at him, he thinks maybe he’s forgiven. Just a few months ago he would have been utterly freaked out by this whole situation, but now he’s pretty sure it’s the thread that’s keeping him tied to anything resembling sobriety and/or sanity.

Mr. White reaches for him. “It’s okay. Come closer. Please.”

Jesse scoots closer. Mr. White wraps his arm around his waist. he touches Jesse's face, kisses his cheek, and then his lips meet Jesse’s own. Jesse closes his eyes as he always does when they kiss. There’s just something about Mr. White’s lips that makes Jesse feel like everything is going to work itself out. Obviously there’s no real reason to believe that and actually things are getting too fucking real lately. But as long as he’s wrapped up in Mr. White’s arms, none of it matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part at the end comes from this manip on Tumblr that has kept me awake at night: https://lizwontcry.tumblr.com/post/630380418212970496/dsdsfdgd-deactivated20150704-your-what-jesse
> 
> The part in the lab was inspired by [Porkchop Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches) who can't help but come up with brilliantness at all times of the day.
> 
> Also sometimes I even come up with my own ideas, every now and then.


End file.
